ly waved it back.

Without a single green leaf on his head, he walked, leaning on the
Egyptian's arm, into the palaestra, which was diagonally opposite to his
house.

Doubtless he longed to hasten at once to Daphne, but he felt that he
could not take leave of her until he had first cast off, as his heart
and mind dictated, the terrible burden which oppressed his soul.
Besides, he knew that the object of his love would not part from him
without granting him one last word.

On the way his heart throbbed almost to bursting.

Even Daphne's image, and what threatened her father, and her with him,
receded far into the background. He could think only of his design, and
how he was to execute it.

Yet ought he not to have the laurel wreath put on, in order, after
removing it, to bestow it on the genius of Myrtilus?

Yet no!

Did he still possess the right to award this noble branch to any one? He
was appearing before his companions only to give truth its just due. It
was repulsive to endow this explanation of an unfortunate error with a
captivating aspect by any theatrical adornment. To be honest, even for
the porter, was a simple requirement of duty, and no praiseworthy merit.

The guide forced a path for him through carriages, litters, and whole
throngs of slaves and common people, who had assembled before the
neighbouring palaestra.

The doorkeepers admitted the blind man, who was well known here, without
delay; but he called to the slave: "Quick, Patran, and not among the
spectators--in the centre of the arena!"

The Egyptian obeyed, and his master crossed the wide space, strewn with
sand, and approached the stage which had been erected for the festal
performances.

Even had his eyes retained the power of sight, his blood was coursing
so wildly through his veins that he might perhaps have been unable to
distinguish the statues around him and the thousands of spectators, who,
crowded closely together, richly garlanded, their cheeks glowing with
enthusiasm, surrounded the arena.

"Hermon!" shouted his friend Soteles in joyful surprise in the midst of
this painful walk. "Hermon!" resounded here, there, and everywhere
as, leaning on his friend's arm, he stepped upon the stage, and the
acclamations grew louder and louder as Soteles fulfilled the sculptor's
request and led him to the front of the platform.

Obeying a sign from the director of the festival, the chorus, which had
just sung a hymn to the Muses, was s